


Five Times Peter Was Starving

by fandomgoodtime



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: (i guess it's technically in the eating disorder range but it isn't really any specific type), (it's only implied though), 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Insomnia, Irondad, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker has ADHD, Self-Hatred, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:05:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19339765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomgoodtime/pseuds/fandomgoodtime
Summary: ...and the one time he was completely and utterly content.Peter Parker's life has never been easy. Because of this, he often lacks things most people take for granted.





	1. Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea and I started writing and suddenly it became 3k+ words? No clue how that happened.
> 
> If you believe I tagged something incorrectly and/or think I should add a tag, please let me know!
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!!

If Peter had picked up on anything his entire career as a superhero, it was that:

 

  1. Superheroes shouldn’t be trying to protect their cities while they aren’t at one-hundred percent capacity.
  2. If a superhero has the ability to help someone, they should.



 

It was this combination of contradictions that had Peter slinging his way through Queens, his head pounding, his vision blurry, his stomach cramping, trying to navigate his way back to his aunt’s apartment after a particularly strenuous patrol. It wasn’t as though he wanted to feel like this, but it also wasn’t like the lady he saw while heading to a bank robbery wanted to be assaulted, it wasn’t like the civilians at the bank wanted to be held hostage, it wasn’t like the friendly owners of the small jewelry shop nearby wanted to get held up by another gang while the bank robbery was going on. By that point in his life, Peter knew that people didn’t always get what they want, so he had no right to complain about his current state, even if he wanted to hurl as he began to climb through his bedroom window.

 

As soon as his feet hit the carpet of the bedroom floor, he scrambled over to a small duffle bag underneath his bed and found his last emergency protein bar, given to him and made by Mr. Stark himself.

 

_“This is for an absolute emergency, Peter, for something like a blood sugar crash! Not for a quick post-patrol snack when you have food available!”_ Mr. Stark had chastised Peter after finding him casually munching one one. As he willed his metabolism to move faster and heal his stab wounds from the night, he wondered if not eating a proper meal in over a week counted as an emergency. He was lucky that Mr. Stark had been out of town for three weeks, or his plan that he hatched a week ago would have surely been discovered under his mentor’s watchful eye.

 

-

 

It had all started after he had gotten back an hour before his curfew one night, a little more than two weeks prior, wanting to hang out with May while eating his usual second dinner. He had changed from his suit as quickly as he could and reached for his door handle when he heard a noise through his door.

 

_“What about Sheila? She’s on maternity leave starting Thursday!”_

 

It was Aunt May on the phone with someone, probably from work, Peter had guessed. He smiled as he imagined her, lounging on the couch, rolling her eyes while talking with friends. He was about to turn his doorknob and say hello to his aunt when she started speaking again, in a much more desperate tone.

 

_“Please Mr. Montoya, I need these shifts. I need to take care of my nephew, and I can hardly foot our grocery bills anymore.”_

 

Peter froze where he stood, his grin dropping from his face, his hand going slack. Mr. Montoya was May’s boss at the hospital. She was asking for more work. Suddenly, he felt his stomach drop and his appetite disappear. How could be so selfish? He knew that May didn’t have lots of money, and here he was, planning to eat a second dinner. Peter backed away from his door and collapsed on his bed, taking his pillow and folding his it over his ears in a vain attempt to block out the conversation playing out on the other side of his door.

 

_“...yes, but he has an incredibly high metabolism. I’ve been having to eat half of what I usually do to make sure…”_

 

Peter felt tears coming to his eyes, and vomit rising in his throat. Not only had he been causing financial strain on his aunt, but he had caused her to eat less when she has a high-intensity job? He felt like the scum of the Earth. How could he be so selfish?

 

He resolved then to make plans to eat less, so she wouldn’t have to waste more money on him. He quickly drafted the plan up in the notes app on his phone.

 

**_Food Plan:_ **

_**Days 0-3:** cut out second dinner _

_**Days 4-6:** cut out snacks between meals _

_**Days 7+:** eat ¾ of usual meals_

 

Peter stared at the last line. He was trying to wean his body off his abnormal food consumption, but was he not going far enough? He ate a lot more than the average person, so he figured he needed to go a bit further.

 

** _Food Plan:_ **

_**Days 0-3:** cut out second dinner _

_**Days 4-6:** cut out snacks between meals _

~~_**Days 7+:** eat ¾ of usual meals _ ~~

_**Days 7-10:** eat ¾ of usual meals _

_**Days 11+:** eat ½ of regular meals _

 

Peter nodded his head, determined. He wouldn’t be a burden on his family any longer. He wouldn’t.

 

-

 

As Peter stripped off his suit after eating his emergency protein bar and took a shower, he wondered what would happen when Mr. Stark came back in a few days. He was currently on Day 16 of his plan, and his body hadn’t reacted even remotely well to the lack of food. He had trouble sleeping, was constantly fatigued, and was in a permanent state of migraine. Because of this, his grades in school had started to slip. His appearance had changed too: the bags under his eyes had gotten so prominent that he started to use Aunt May’s concealer to cover them up. He had also noticed his face getting skinnier, so he tried to use a combination of highlighter and concealer to make his face look less sunken than it was. His ribs, however, couldn’t be helped. He cringed at himself whenever he looked in the mirror and saw his ribs standing out amongst his too-skinny frame, bruises littered all over his torso from his reduced healing factor.

 

He didn’t know how long he could keep this up for, especially with Spider-Man duties. He wanted to keep being Spider-Man, but he had noticed his energy levels decreasing at an alarming rate since he started his half-meals. If he had to quit being Spider-Man anyway, maybe he should just get a job to cover his extra food costs.

 

Peter shook his head. Getting a job would likely mean he couldn’t spend any more time in the lab with Tony, and that would be hell in itself. But he had been doing it for over two weeks already, maybe he would get used to it. As he got into his pajamas and lied down, he thought of all the times May tried to hide her relief of Peter being “full” or “eating something at Ned’s,” and became more determined to continue. He would do it for his aunt.

 

When Peter arrived at school the next day, before he could even step into his chemistry class he had with Ned and MJ, the two teens dragged him away from the classroom, all the way past the football field, and behind the bleachers, where they eventually set him down.

 

“Hey guys, what’s up—?” Peter tried to say casually, but was interrupted by a particularly loud grumble from his stomach. MJ simply raised an eyebrow at him and gave a pointed look. Ned simply walked over to where he was sitting and crouched down to his level.

 

“What’s up with us? What’s up with you, man! You come to class looking awful—“

 

“Like death warmed over,” MJ amended, picking at her nails. Peter would have thought she was disinterested if it weren’t for the slight furrowing of her brows as she spoke.

 

“Yeah, like death warmed over, nearly falling asleep in every class, stomach grumbling, until you get to lunch where you binge as much food as you can! What’s going on with you?! And don’t give us the bullshit ‘nothing, don’t worry about it’ that you’ve been giving us for the past two weeks!”

 

Peter turned his head away, not wanting to look at his friends’ concerned looks. His lunches were free, as a part of his scholarship and financial aid, so Peter allowed himself to eat as much as he could in that time. He thought his friends hadn’t noticed. He was wrong.

 

“You’re skinnier too,” MJ commented in a deadpan voice, reaching in her bag for something. When she pulled a light blue pack of something, he was confused, until he realized May had a pack of makeup wipes that looked similar. Peter tried to scoot away from her, but she simply rolled her eyes and quickly walked over to him, wiping off his makeup.

 

“H-how do you even have those! You don’t even wear makeup!” Peter complained, stuttering slightly.

 

MJ sighed and sat down next to him on the right, Ned doing the same on the left.

 

“You’d better be glad I do, or else you would keep hiding the fact that you’re starving until you actually fucking died,” she stated bluntly, turning her head to glare at him. Peter went to protest but withered when her glare intensified. “Don’t even try to argue with me, or I’ll lift your shirt up so we can have a better idea of what’s going on.”

 

Peter put his head in his hands, tears building. He didn’t want this. He just wanted May not to worry as much.

 

“Peter?” Ned asked gently, and that’s all it took for Peter’s emotional barrier to break, for his tears to start falling. Ned put an arm around him, and MJ rubbed his back lightly, waiting for him to speak. And after a few minutes, speak he did, finally letting out everything that’s been happening in his life for the past few weeks.

 

Both of his friends looked at him non-judgmentally, albeit confusedly.

 

“Why didn’t you just ask us for help?” Ned questioned him. “We would’ve helped you.” MJ nodded in agreement.

 

“If I didn’t want to be a burden on May, of course I’m not going to be a burden on my best friends,” he stated. As Ned started to say something about not being a burden, MJ held up her hand and pinched her fingers together, telling the other boy to be quiet. “What about Stark?” she asked.

 

Peter looked at her, startled. “What?”

 

“What about Stark,” she said again, slowly. “He has tons of money to spare, and you’re his personal intern. Of course he would help you.”

 

Peter scoffed and stood up, moving away from where they were seated, glaring heatedly at MJ. “I’m not some billionaire’s charity case.”

 

MJ looked frustrated. “I wasn’t saying that you are, I’m just—”

 

“Saying that I should beg for a billionaire’s money?” Peter nearly snarled back.

 

“No, not at all—”

 

“Or say he should take pity on the orphan in distress—”

 

“PARKER!!” the girl yelled, effectively shutting the teen superhero up, as well as startling Ned, who was looking upon the conversation in a similar manner as a child whose parents were fighting. “Let me fucking finish my sentence.”

 

MJ pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed in and out for a few seconds, trying to calm herself. “As much as I’m not a fan of Stark, he clearly cares about you. He would be happy to help you.”

 

“And,” she continued after taking another breath, “if it’s a pride thing, fine. Ask for the internship to be paid, since it basically prevents you from getting an actual job.”

 

Peter thought about what she said for a moment. Would Mr. Stark not look down on him for asking for help? Could it be that easy?

 

“He’s out of town right now—” he weakly tried to protest, but Ned spoke up.

 

“Nuh-uh, you can pay someone digitally, and I know he gave you his number. No getting out of this one.” Ned’s tone was as much of a “no-bullshit” tone as he could muster.

 

“Alright, fine, I’ll do that,” Peter mumbled, sitting back down. Ned gave him a hug as soon as he touched the ground, and MJ begrudgingly joined in.

 

“Don’t be dumb, ‘kay Parker?” She spoke, her words slightly muffled by her face against Peter’s shoulder. The group felt more than heard the reverberating laugh the boy gave in response, along with the squeaked “Okay, okay, I promise!” after MJ pulled out of the hug and started hitting him.

 

-

 

As Peter put on his Spider-Man suit and snuck out his window later that day, he promised himself that it would be the last time he swung around in that condition. He would have just stayed home today if not for the fact that Mr. Stark would be likely be grounding him from the suit the second he got home. He wanted a last taste of freedom before then. He swung toward Manhattan, specifically Stark Tower, planning on watching the sunset from the top of the building, when nearly halfway there he became incredibly dizzy and shaky, losing his sense of orientation along with his grip on the web he was swinging on. He was at the highest arc of his swing when he let go, causing him to fly further down the street he was following until he landed on the roof of a slightly shorter high-rise, a sickening crack following the landing.

 

“Kar’n,” Peter panted, laying on his back, slurring his words slightly, “ple’s tell me the cr’ck wasn’ me.”

 

“It appears the large crack you heard was the simultaneous fracture in your left clavicle, and the clean break in your left humerus and left femur. It appears three ribs on your left side have also been broken, along with a torn deltoid around the area of your previous fractures” Karen stated calmly.

 

“Shit,” Peter mumbled, and broke into a fit of coughs.

  


“If it makes you feel any better, you did break part of the roof where you landed, which may have contributed a small amount of the noise,” the AI added after his coughing fit had died down.

 

“Wow th’nks,” the boy muttered bitterly. “Wait ‘f m’ injur’es are on m’ lef’ side, do’s tha’ mean ’m all ri—” he tried to joke, but Karen interrupted him.

 

“You may also have internal bruising and/or bleeding due to the fall. An immediate medical checkup is advised,” Karen spoke calmly again, ignoring the frantic tone of the boy’s consequent string of curses.

 

“Nah K’r’n, ‘m good, c’n alre’dy feel m’self healin’” Peter slurred and tried to move, a large spike of pain greeting him at the action.

 

“It appears your injuries are not healing at their regular rate,” Karen noted. “I must contact Boss of this, courtesy of the Baby-Monitor protocol.”

 

“Sh’, I though’ h’ d’sabl’d tha’” Peter tried to speak, slurring his words even more, black spots dancing in his vision.

 

“Wai’, ‘sn h’ ou’ ‘f t’wn” was his final attempt at speaking before he blacked out.

 

-

 

When Peter woke up, the first thing he noticed was the intense lights that shone down on him. The immediate second thing was the smell of disinfectants that burned his nostrils and made him cough. The consequential third thing he noticed was the pain radiating from his left side.

  
“Welcome back to the world, Sleeping Beauty.” a voice said.

 

Peter slowly turned his head toward the noise and inwardly groaned. Apparently an angry billionaire as the fourth thing. And the fact he was in the med bay at the Tower as the fifth.

 

“Hi Mr. Stark,” he croaked out. “Thought you were still on your trip.” The man in question raised his eyebrow questioningly and Peter hastily added on, “Not that I did this because you were away, because that would be idiotic and childish, but you told me that you were going to be back on Saturday, and it’s probably Thursday. Oh my god it’s Thursday, Ned and MJ are going to kill me, I’m not in school—” Peter rambled, despite his voice hurting, not able to stop the spew of words coming from his mouth until Mr. Stark put his hand over it.

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled weakly.

 

Tony nodded and moved one of the chairs on the far side of the room next to the bed, sitting down.

 

“I got home early from the trip. It turns out one of the guys from the company I had been negotiating the business deal with had been subpoenaed by congress as a witness about potential tax evasion from his boss. Since we were almost done with the deal, they decided to just call back when the whole situation was dealt with, so I came home a few days early,” he casually stated. “Imagine my surprise when, while I’m unpacking, my AI contacts me to say that Spider-Man has multiple broken bones, and possible internal bleeding.”

 

Peter looked down in shame, but Tony continued speaking anyway, “And then I pick him up and take him back to the med bay, and find out his blood sugar level is 15 mg/dL. And that when I take off his suit to put him in more comfortable clothing, his ribs are sticking out.” he finished, irritation evident in his voice.

 

Peter’s eyes started glistening with tears, which Tony noticed a few moments later.

 

“Kid?” he asked hesitantly, placing his hand on his mentee’s. Peter’s tears broke free as he spilled everything that had happened since Tony left for his trip. Tony clenched his jaw when he heard about the diet plan, but rubbed Peter’s hand with his thumb in circles until he finished speaking.

 

“I-I’m sorry,” Peter whispered at the end of his explanation, tears streaming down his face. “I didn’t want to worry anyone.”

 

“Oh kid,” Tony sighed, standing up so he can run his fingers through Peter’s hair. “I worry about you regardless. And I know that your aunt does as well. You aren’t a burden to either of us.”

 

Peter outright sobbed at that comment, and Tony took it upon himself to wedge his body next to Peter’s in the space of the hospital bed. The young hero turned and cried into his mentor’s shirt.

 

“You shouldn’t ever have to worry about stuff like food, okay? I know I’m not your biological parent—” Peter flinched at the admission, and Tony sighed, “—but I care about you like you’re my own son. You’re my kid. Don’t feel guilty about asking for what you need.” Tony continued playing with Peter’s hair, patiently waiting for him to respond. When the boy tilted his head up, Tony stop his movements, focusing on his kid.

 

“T-thank y-you Mr. Stark,” he hiccuped, hugging his father-figure.

 

“Of course, Pete, anytime,” the older man simply responded, hugging him back.


	2. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep didn't come easily to Peter Parker for a variety of reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter took so long! I have been doing a lot of college prepping stuff this summer, since I'm going to be a freshman in the fall, and I was incredibly busy with that the last few days.
> 
> Considering this chapter was (and will likely be) the hardest one for me to write out of all these chapters, I have no clue how it got so lengthy.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you guys enjoy!!

Peter sighed as he watched the clock tick down from the opposite side of the classroom, folding his arms on his desk and laying his head down. He was in the home stretch, the last 30 minutes of class before school let out for spring break, and the monotone voice of his Calc II teacher could not be any less enthusiastic. Peter tried to pay attention to Mr. Haywood, he really did, but his senses were apparently too enthralled by the tapping of Flash’s pencil against his desk and the squeaking of MJ’s chair as she bounced her leg and the cracking of Betty’s bones as she stretched in her seat, so his effort was in vain. Even though he already knew the topic being taught, it was one of the harder ones of the course itself, and he knew he needed to pay more attention for the purpose of review.

 

“...therefore, for the f⁽ⁿ⁾(a) part of the series for this problem, you need to solve to n=3…“

 

Peter internally groaned. He loved math and science, but he was surprised Mr. Haywood hadn’t put him to sleep yet with his tone of voice. Likewise, the lack of interesting content was also tempting him to a nap, considering he wouldn’t even need to use what was being taught in his future career. The teen hero burrowed his head further into his arms, hoping to catch a quick power nap, when his teacher called him out not even thirty seconds later.

 

“Mr. Parker,” Mr. Haywood shouted, and Peter quickly snapped his head up, his hair disheveled, nearly falling out of his chair at the sudden intrusive noise. His class let out a laugh, and Peter felt his cheeks burn.

 

Peter cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “Yes, sir?” he asked hesitantly.

 

“Glad to see you’re back to the world of the living,” he said, a mild note of annoyance seeping into his voice. “Since we now have the pleasure of your full, undivided attention...,” the teacher paused and allowed more snickering to occur, while Peter shrunk down in his seat, “...let me ask you a question. What is the “difference between Taylor and MacLaurin series?”

 

Flash turned toward Peter and smirked triumphantly at him, thinking he would get it wrong, but Peter remembered the correct answer after a moment of deliberation. “MacLaurin series are just Taylor series with an ‘a’ value of zero,” he replied meekly. Mr. Haywood’s eyes widened in surprise as he replied, “yes, that is correct. Nice job, Mr. Parker.”

 

Flash looked furious, sending a venomous glare Peter’s way before turning his head back to the front of the classroom with a huff. Peter just laid his head back down, willing school to end quicker. And if when the bell rang, Peter used a little bit of his enhanced strength to get out of the building and to Happy’s waiting car faster, nobody needed to know.

 

-

 

Peter barely waited for Happy’s car to stop before he opened the door and sprinted into the lobby of Stark Tower, missing the eye roll from the older man, only seeing him signaling the tower security to be at ease from the corner of his eye. As soon as he breached the doors of the tower, the receptionist laughed affectionately, halting Peter from entering the rest of the building so she could ruffle his hair first, despite his indignant squawk at the action. The receptionist, Harper, was a kind girl just out of college, sporting a dark purple undercut hairstyle, causing her to look intimidating to anyone trying to get into the building without a pass. Peter was also slightly frightened the first time he saw her and her resting bitch face, but soon warmed up to the lady, and became a little brother figure to her. After his hair became thoroughly tousled, she allowed him to head toward the private elevator. As soon as Peter stepped in, FRIDAY greeted him.

 

“Welcome back, Peter. Boss is waiting for you in his lab,” she greeted warmly. Despite the fact that Tony had made the AI, it didn’t take long for Peter to become one of her favorite people.

 

_“Betrayal,” Tony had said, when the AI had told him that. “Betrayal by my own creation. This is how the robots take over.”_

 

“Yes! Thank you FRI,” Peter replied to her greeting enthusiastically, nearly vibrating with excitement, running out of the elevator once the doors opened and navigating his way to lab. He was so focused on working on his new projects with Tony that he didn’t notice the screw on the ground in the entrance to the lab, and ended up tripping and falling, channeling his momentum into a roll that ended up positioning him into a crouch. Peter breathed in, trying to calm his racing heart, when he heard a laugh from across the room. 

 

“Excited now, are we?” Tony raised an eyebrow at Peter, the boy standing up and running toward his mentor.

 

“Yeah I am! It’s spring break, Mr. Stark! That means we can spend as much time in the lab as we want working on cool projects, and I can also be Spider-Man more and stop more crime and save more people, and I can hang out at the tower more, and—“ Peter rambled on until Tony held a hand up to stop his talking.

 

“Yeah, I’m excited to spend all of break with you too, kid,” he chuckled and reached for Peter’s hair, which the boy expertly dodged until his mentor’s words sunk in. 

 

“All of break?!” Peter looked at him hopefully with wide eyes, hoping Tony hadn’t misspoken.

 

Tony smirked as he replied, “Yep! Your aunt said you can stay here for the entire duration of break, since she will be working lots of night shifts. Your room is already set up.”

 

Peter jumped excitedly and crushed his father-figure in a hug. “Thank you, Mr. Stark, thank you!!”

 

“Jeez kid,” he panted, the air knocked out of him by the strength of the embrace. Peter giggled, and Tony successfully ruffled his hair; however, he paused, noticing it already looked messy.

 

“Ugh, Harper,” he grumbled. “Stealing my ruffles. Someday I need to fire her.”

 

Peter outright laughed at that. “Please, she can go toe-to-toe with Pepper, you stand no chance,” he smirked at Tony, the aforementioned man sighing.

 

“Yeah whatever,” he mumbled, pressing his face into Peter’s hair, able to feel the reverberation of Peter’s full-body laugh.

 

-

 

Peter tried to bargain with Tony on pushing his curfew back since it was spring break, but the older man wouldn’t budge.

 

“Break technically starts tomorrow. You had a long day at school, you need your rest,” he said sternly, at the end of a thirty-minute debate of Peter claiming he was only two years away from adulthood and could make his own decisions, with Tony answering every time that he wasn’t an adult yet and needed to listen. It was only when Tony threatened to shut down the suit and not let him patrol at all that he acquiesced.

 

And as Peter lied down in his bed later that night, he cursed his luck of having a short, uneventful patrol. Not that he wanted crimes to occur, but he usually relied on patrols to tire him out so that he could get his mind to be quiet and get some sleep. Usually, Peter combatted these slow patrols by working on future homework until he passed out from exhaustion, but since he was on spring break, he had nothing to work on, leaving room for his mind to race while he tried to fall asleep.

 

_‘I wonder how long Tony will let me work in the lab and what we’ll be working on. I thought I saw a blueprint of a robot when Mr. Stark asked me to get his notes earlier in the day, I wonder what it’ll be named. What if it was named Peter? Or what if it was named PETER, like an acronym? No, that would probably be weird. What acronym could even make up Peter anyway? Maybe something like Preferred Entity Tony Engineered— no, no that’s still strange. It would probably have something to do with the robot’s personality and WAIT does that mean Mr. Stark is going to teach me how to code an AI? Ned would freak if he heard about this, I should invite him over sometime during break—‘_

 

Peter groaned, clutching his head, willing his thoughts to just stop so he could finally sleep. Admittedly, he was tired, but he wasn’t tired enough for his brain to turn off. He shifted a countless number of times, trying to get comfortable in his restless state, but never could find a truly comfortable position. In the two hours it took for sleep to finally take him under, he wondered if Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho would be able to make sleeping pills for enhanced individuals.

 

-

 

His lack of sleep wasn’t always due to a hyperactive brain. Sometimes during patrols he would see something that hit far too close to home, something that would keep him up for hours. That Sunday after spring break started, Peter sat atop the roof of a local Manhattan business adjacent to a large apartment complex, waiting for Karen to give him a new threat to check out, when he heard a conversation below.

 

“Wait, Jason, come back!” a man yelled. Peter had Karen zoom in on the scene, and saw a little boy with black hair and blue eyes running out a door, a man with a similar look who was likely in his late thirties running out after him.

 

The kid paused when the man spoke, and turned around to face him. “You can’t tell me what to do, Thomas! You’re not even my real dad!” he shouted, tears running down his face, as he turned back around ran farther down the street, the man, presumably named ‘Thomas’ keeping pace. 

 

“Buddy, wait! We can talk this through more in the morning, please just come back where it’s safe,” Thomas begged, gaining speed on the kid. Peter crept along the rooftops of buildings, keeping a close eye in case he needed to intervene, when he saw the two people arguing step in front of the entrance to an alley. Suddenly, Peter’s spidey-sense went haywire. He checked the rest of the alleyway behind them to make sure they were okay, and saw a man using the shadows to his advantage, creeping toward the man and kid, his gun out. Peter froze. All he could think as he jumped down and webbed the criminal was _BenBenBenBen Couldn’tStopItCouldn’tStopIt MyFaultMyFault_. 

 

Both of the civilians looked startled as Spider-Man jumped down, Thomas donning a protective look on his face as he hugged his kid, telling Peter “thanks” in a small voice. Peter simply nodded and swung away from the scene and toward Stark Tower, already feeling the beginnings of a panic attack. Through his anxious haze, he acknowledged how lucky he was that Tony wasn’t anywhere near the path to his room, how lucky he was that Tony wouldn’t see him crying and tugging at his hair as he tried to move as quickly to his room as possible, how lucky it was that his mentor wouldn’t know and therefore wouldn’t think less of him. As he got into his bed, he tried to close his eyes and drift off to sleep, but was haunted by images of Ben bleeding out in his arms every time, haunted by the memory of his past self calling for help, begging his uncle to stay alive. He didn’t get any sleep that night, a mantra of _YourFaultYourFaultYourFault_ playing in his head over and over again.

 

-

 

A few days later, his lack of sleep started affecting him, the bags under his eyes growing, his usual energetic demeanor diminishing. He knew he needed to find a solution soon, or else he would be too fatigued to patrol, and he didn’t want a repeat of the diet situation (he had been benched for two weeks while he transitioned back into regular eating habits). He had gone down to the med bay with dark circles big enough to be immediately concerning and asked Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho if it was possible to make a sleeping pill that would work with his metabolism. After extensive research on how the drugs worked on the brain and how they were broken down in the body, the two doctors concluded that it was possible. They did, however, warn him that it would take a long time to make, so he would have to do without it for now. It had been a day since that conversation, and he hadn’t found anything to temporarily tide him over. Sighing tiredly and rubbing his eyes, Peter suited up and headed to the roof of the Tower, hoping the fresh air would clear his head. The teen hero laid down on the roof, closed his eyes, and tried to sort out his thoughts. For a full five minutes, he sat in tranquility, simply existing, until Karen spoke up.

 

“Peter, there’s a fire at an apartment complex on East 34th and 3rd,” she alerted, startling Peter who jumped high in the air as a response.

 

“Oh, thanks Karen,” he replied sheepishly, “how bad is it?”

 

“It appears to be a Class B fire, a ruptured gas line causing the flames to build higher. There is a firetruck ten minutes out, but—“

 

“But many people will get hurt before they arrive, yeah. I’ll check it out, thanks Karen.”

 

Karen hummed softly in response before speaking again. “Stay sharp, Peter.”

 

“Will do,” he replied with a smile, shooting a web in the direction he wanted to go and swinging.

 

After swinging for a couple of minutes, the black billowing smoke became much more apparent in the skyline. Peter swung faster, trying to get there as soon as he could. As he swung on his last web, approaching the building, Peter finally spoke.

 

“How many civilians are in that building?” he asked Karen. 

 

After a few seconds, she replied, “by my estimate, around 20 people.”

 

Peter swore. He could already see the support beams of the building start to topple. He knew what he had to do first.

 

“Coming through!” he shouted at the crowd standing in front of the fire, swinging toward the support beams, hearing multiple gasps along the way. When he landed, he did some quick math in his head, determined the best way to keep it structurally sound, and started shooting his webs in the specific pattern he thought of. 

 

He then leapt backward to get a better view of the complex, and immediately rushed back in to find the people on each level, guided by Karen showing him their heat signatures. When the firefighters finally arrived, Peter was on the fourth floor, carbon dioxide filling his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Regardless of his physical state, he was determined. There was one person remaining on that floor plus three people left on the fifth and final floor, and he would get them all out.

 

“Spider-Man, get out of the way!” one of the firefighters yelled, not wanting the hero to accidentally damage the structure of the building. If Peter could have replied he would have, but his throat burned, each breath he took feeling as though he was breathing fire itself. He dropped off the last person from the fourth floor onto the street below, and rushed up to the fifth floor to get the remaining civilians. Peter saw two of the people on the floor hiding behind a metal table, and grabbed them, bringing them down to the ground.

 

“Spider-Man!” A woman ran up to him, sobbing. “My daughter Cassie is still up there!”

 

Peter nodded at her, slinging back up to the floor, when he heard the structure shudder and felt his spidey-sense scream loudly for him to get out. Nevertheless, he persisted, searching for the woman’s daughter. He found her near the front: a little girl with blonde hair dirtied from soot, her blue eyes dry from the heat of the fire. Peter, weakened significantly by the lack of oxygen in his system, could only drag her out of her spot. Another shudder went through the building again, the last thing he saw were her eyes looking up at him terrified, before everything went black.

 

-

 

Peter drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, everything a dull, white noise, until he vaguely felt pressure on his chest and lips.

 

_“C’mon kid, fight!”_

 

He knew the voice was familiar, but he couldn’t quite place from where. He couldn’t quite move either, his body unresponsive.

 

_“Dammit Peter, if you die here like this in a random alleyway, I’ll bring you back from the dead myself just so I can ground you.”_

 

Was he being given CPR? He tried to open his eyes, but his body still wouldn’t respond.

 

 _“Fuck, please don’t leave me here,”_ the voice sounded desperate, and suddenly Peter remembered. Tony blew a breath into his mouth one more time and did a few more chest compressions, and suddenly Peter could move again. He opened his eyes and started coughing, unable to stop.

 

“Oh my god, you’re okay. Oh my god,” Tony muttered in disbelief, collapsing on the ground from relief.

 

Peter simply kept coughing, unable to do anything else. His eyes were heavy, and he couldn’t resist closing them.

 

“We’ll be back at the tower soon kid, don’t worry,” he heard Mr. Stark say, accompanied by the noise of Iron Man repulsors. Peter didn’t have enough energy to respond, and soon fell back into sleep.

 

-

 

The next time Peter woke up, he felt incredibly floaty. His thoughts were consequently a bit fuzzy, and he flexed each of his limbs, trying to gain a sense of his surroundings. He felt a weird tugging when he moved his left arm, and looked down to find a needle in his arm, attached to an IV. 

 

 _"Oh, pain meds,”_ he thought. _‘That’s why I’m all fuzzy. I guess that makes sense.’_

 

He was almost done testing all of his limbs when an onslaught of memories hit him. The building. The smoke. _The girl._ Peter tried to take a breath to calm his thoughts, but felt pressure in his throat, and realized he couldn’t take in a lot of air. He panicked, reaching for his throat, trying to make a noise, but only ended up making some loud gurgling noises. Was there still smoke? Why couldn’t he breathe? He started coughing, trying to get the pressure to go away, which soon turned into a full-on coughing fit. He felt three pairs of hands on him, one holding down his legs, one holding down his arms, and one cupping his face.

 

 _“Sweetheart, it’s okay, you’re safe,”_ said one voice. May. Peter moved his head and saw her near his legs.

 

 _“Peter, we need you to hold still, you managed to dislodge your IV,"_ came another voice. It was a feminine voice, a combination of kind and stern. Was that Dr. Cho? She must be the one on his arms. That meant he was probably in the med bay.

 

 _“It’s okay, Pete. They had to intubate you to help you breathe better. There was a lot of smoke in your lungs, bambino.”_ a voice he recognized as Tony’s stated softly, as he felt someone stroking the side of his face. Peter stilled his movements to get away, realizing he was safe. Soon he felt the weird pressure in his chest go away, and he could finally breathe.

 

“Who’s bambino?” Peter asked once he could talk, his voice scratchy. 

 

Tony laughed, “You, Pete. You’re my bambino.”

 

“Nuh-uh,” the teen pouted. “M’ name’s Peter.” That caused laughing from the entire group and Peter pouted more.

 

“I think he’s good to go back to his room,” stated Dr. Cho. “The damage the smoke did to his lungs has healed, as well as the burns on his body. He still has a minor concussion, but what he really needs now is rest.”

 

“M’kay,” Peter replied sluggishly, swinging his legs over the side of his hospital bed, making an attempt to stand. Emphasis on attempt, because when he put all his weight on his legs, they immediately buckled underneath him, causing him to face-plant on the hospital floor.

 

“Ew,” Peter complained. He was lifted by a strong set of arms a moment later and was carried bridal style, presumably toward his room.

 

“‘m not a baby,” Peter grumbled at Tony, who chuckled.

 

“Okay,” he replied easily, “I’ll let you contest that when you’re not high on pain meds.”

 

As they arrived at Peter’s room, Peter remembered something he needed to ask.

 

“What about the girl?” he questioned, looking up at Tony. The man in question froze, and tried to brush off the comment.

 

“What girl?” he asked casually, a bit of hesitation in his voice as he set Peter down on his bed and tucked him in. Peter immediately got annoyed at his casual tone.

 

“The one in the building,” he snapped weakly. “I know she was there, she was with me when the building collapsed.”

 

Tony looked down at the ground, and that was a clear enough answer for Peter, who buried his face in his pillow, tears coming to his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he said sympathetically, as Peter drifted back asleep, his heart heavy.

 

-

 

_Peter was in an all-too-familiar warehouse, watching while a man with wings smashed the supports holding the building up. And as the all-too-familiar building crashed down upon him, he screamed, begging for help, begging for someone who would never come. After struggling to lift the concrete above him, he finally hefted himself out of the rubble, his body aching, lungs burning. He limped away from the wreckage until he heard a small voice yell. Peter turned back and ran as quickly as he could to the burning remains of the warehouse, searching for the owner of the voice, digging through the burning chunks of the prison he had just freed himself from when he found her. His breath caught in his throat._

 

Cassie.

 

 _The girl was stuck underneath the rubble, her legs crushed, her arms sticking out at odd angles, her body covered in ash and cuts and_ _burns,_ oh god the burns. _Peter carefully leapt down next to her and tried to get her unstuck, causing her to cry out in pain._

 

_“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m Spider-Man, I’ll get you out of this,” he promised, digging her out, as he heard her breaths hitch, her heartbeat slowing._

 

 _“Hang on, I almost got you, stay with me,” he begged as he moved the last chunk of material from on top of her, and picked her up. She looked up at him one last time, her eyes becoming glossy and unfocused, taking a final breath. He collapsed to his knees, holding her to his chest, letting out a sob. What kind of hero was he if he couldn’t even save this little girl? He saw the flames headed toward him, aiming to engulf him, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen, looking at the girl he couldn’t save._  

 

Peter woke up screaming, tears streaming down his face. He faintly heard FRIDAY say something in the background, but he couldn’t hear her over the ringing in his ears.

 

_I couldn’t save her I couldn’t save her I couldn’t save her I don’t deserve to be a hero I couldn’t save her I couldn’t save her_

 

Peter’s breaths were coming out in short pants, guilt and self-hatred eating him alive. He gripped his hair and tugged, hoping the pain of the action would distract from the _failurefailurefailurefailure_ running through his mind. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to ignore his thoughts, but he couldn’t escape. He heard his bedroom door open, frantic footsteps rushing toward his bed, a voice talking to him, but he couldn’t make out the words with how loud his thoughts were, how loud everything was. He pulled his hair harder, and a pair of hands gripped his own, stifling their movements, bringing one of his hands against a chest and simply holding the other.

 

“—eter, do you feel me inhaling and exhaling? Follow that rhythm. In and out, in and out—“

 

Peter tried to figure out who the voice belonged to, but was in too much of a panicked state to do so. Instead, he decided to listen, following the consistent inhales and exhales until he could think again. What he saw when he finally regained himself was a concerned Tony looking down at him. Peter froze, sure in his mind that Tony thought he was weak now. The boy tried to move away, but he was stopped before he could do so.

 

“Bambino, please, talk to me,” Tony pleaded. He looked into his mentor’s eyes and found them to be slightly glossy.

 

“I don’t want you to think I’m weak,” Peter mumbled quietly, looking away. Tony, however, waiting for a response, had strained his ears enough where he heard the statement. He sighed and rubbed a hand through Peter’s hair.

 

“Everyone has nightmares Pete, including me. It comes with the job. There’s no need to be ashamed about it,” he spoke gently. Peter looked up at his mentor, shocked.

 

“Really?” he sniffled. 

 

“Yeah,” Tony confirmed. 

 

Peter looked down at his lap and took a breath, fidgeting with his hands. “I couldn’t save her.”

 

“Oh, buddy,” Tony started, but Peter interrupted him with a choked sob.

 

“Her name was Cassie,” he hiccuped. “God, why did that woman tell me her name? It’s so much worse with a name.”

 

Tony gently nudged Peter, silently telling the teen to make room for him on the bed, and joined him. He grabbed Peter and tucked him under his chin, humming with thought.

 

“You can’t save everyone, kiddo,” he said a couple of minutes later. “As much as I wish we could, we can’t.”

 

After another minute, Peter hesitantly replied. “Does… Does it ever get easier?”

 

Tony hesitated too, but eventually spoke again. “No, no it doesn’t, but that’s why we have people to lean on and get us through it.” He punctuated the sentence by pulling Peter closer.

 

“Yeah I guess so,” Peter’s voice was muffled against Tony’s shirt. “I love you, dad,” he said sleepily. Tony froze at hearing that double-emotional-whammy Peter used, but eventually relaxed, letting his son fall asleep in his arms.

 

“I love you too, kiddo, I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the reasons I had such a hard time writing this chapter was because of some emotional disconnect with the writing. I don't necessarily go through these specific issues, so it was hard for me to sound like it was genuine. One thing I did have a connection to, however, was not being able to sleep due to ADHD and my mind not shutting the hell up, so I decided to reference a little bit of that here. Plus, I'm pretty sure that Peter developed something similar to ADHD from the spider bite due to his senses, that is, if he didn't have it already, so I figured it was pretty in-character.
> 
> I do have all of the chapter titles/ideas listed out already, so I do know what I am doing for the rest of the story. Don't worry, it will be finished. By the way, shoutout to anyone who notices any and all DC references (there were also some in the last chapter). I'm going to count how many I put in here and put the grand total in the final chapter.
> 
> Also, I have a vendetta against Taylor and MacLaurin series.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!!
> 
> If you did, please leave a kudos and/or comment! Those kind of things really help motivate me to churn these chapters out faster!


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